Lily Frankenstein: What in God's name do you want of me?
The Creature: What I want I cannot have. You are incapable of it
Lily Frankenstein: Yes I know. You want to walk in the village and hold my hand. And when people are cruel you want me to love you even more. Do I hurt you? You pathetic creature. How can you imagine that I could care for you? Does that face belong alongside this? Doesn't the world smile on us? Don't we make a beautiful couple "thee and me"? Should we wander the pastures and recite your fucking poetry to the fucking cows? You are blind; like all other men.
The Creature: And you're unlike all other women.
Lily Frankenstein: You tell me how. We flatter our men with our pain. We bow before them. We make ourselves dolls for their amusement. We lose our dignity in corsets and high shoes and gossip and the slavery of marriage. And our reward for this service? The back of the hand ... the face turned to the pillow. The bloody aching cunt as you force us onto your beds to take your fat heaving bodies! You drag us into the alleys my lad and cram yourselves into our mouths for 2 bob when you're not not beating us senseless when we're not bloody from the eyes and the mouth and the ass and the cunt! Never again will I kneel to any man. Now they shall kneel to me. As you do monster. My monster. My beautiful corpse. How clever he's been, our creator. But our little god... has brought forth not angels. But demons. Thee and me. And what should we do with this power, undead thing? You're a thoughtful man, a philosopher even, so tell me, why do we exist? Why have we been chosen? Tell me.
The Creature: I don't know.
Lily Frankenstein: Is it to suffer?
The Creature: Yes.
Lily Frankenstein: Must it be?
The Creature: How can it be other? We long for that we can not have.
Lily Frankenstein: Women? I'll bring you a dozen we can fuck them together. Me? Then you shall have me. I want you. I want a man unlike all other men. My brother, my equal. I'll take you by this beautiful white, dead hand and lead you to my bed right now. I'll bleed for you. I'll love you, for your sadness, and your poetry and your passion and your rage and your infinite, luxurious ugliness. I'll lick your sins away. And when Victor comes home, we'll put our hands around his throat together, and watch him die. And then this will be our home. And then? What then, undead thing? We were created to rule, my love. And the blood of mankind will water our garden. Us and our kin, and our children, and our generations. We are the conquerors. We are the pure blood. We are steel and sinew both. We are the next 1000 years. We are the dead. No being who ever was or will be shall love you like I do.
Bravo Billie
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